


break a leg

by Lliyk



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Break Up, Drama, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lliyk/pseuds/Lliyk
Summary: changmin’s boyfriend breaks up with him. he finds unexpected comfort in his roommates.





	1. Chapter 1

 

“keep the bracelet.”

changmin feels something in his chest fall apart. his mouth moves around words he can’t quite get out.

“it was fun, changmin. until, y’know. until it wasn’t.”

the sound of his bedroom door closing seems to put him back into motion—“ _kyuhyun_ ,”—but his voice ricochets off of the walls and come right back to him.

changmin breathes out forcefully, looks around his room, suddenly so small and so empty, and kyuhyun becomes just that; a ricochet. an echo.

the tightness in his chest is heavy and annoying as he picks up the blue stone bracelet from his mussed bed sheets, the bracelet he had drunkenly made from scratch, soberly bestowed to the one he was in love with, who he thought loved him, too.

the stones grind together as he closes the bracelet in his fist. so much for that.

he is never showing affection _ever_ again.

there’s a knock at his door, and changmin croaks out a raspy sounding “yeah,” wondering if he’s really already that close to actual tears, before clearing his throat as one of his roommates pops his head in.

“it’s donghae. kyuhyun left these in the kitchen for you? they’re tickets for something, i don’t— _oh_.”

“you’re home?” donghae is never home. changmin tosses the bracelet onto his nightstand and resists the urge to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. “whatever. and whatever _that_ is, throw it away.”

the door creaks as donghae takes a step in to examine changmin’s unusually bare room. his eyes stop on the furthest wall near the window, and the way he narrows them has changmin following his gaze.

donghae watches a look of abject horror slide over changmin’s features, the sadness that had started to set into his brow morphing into disbelief and anger.

there’s a _very_ empty spot next to his bedroom window.

changmin wants to tear his hair out.

“ _he took my signed x-japan poster_.”

donghae grits his teeth, furious on changmin’s behalf. you never mess with a mans music. “you want me to break his legs?”

head spinning, betrayal starting to claw its way up his chest, changmin forces out an answer.

“i’ll let you know.”

changmin gives a jerk of his head, hoping that donghae will just take the hint and fuck off for now. he is practically vibrating, breaths coming in short as he shuts his eyes closed against the sight. he’s so busy trying not to hurl his fist into something that he nearly misses the sound of his door closing.

alone, the tears return with a vengeance, threatening to spill over. changmin falls to his bed with a choked sob and puts his face into a pillow.

it’s a mistake because it smells like pine and fresh bread. it smells like kyuhyun.

changmin screams into it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

“were you always this naked?”

changmin practically startles out of his skin, eyes flying wide open and the jumpstart of adrenaline kicking him out of his stupor.

“jesus christ, yunho, scared me half to fucking death.” he grumbles, ignoring the question and resuming his trip to the refrigerator—so what if it’s his fourth trip in two hours, he finally ran out of bean paste buns and there’s ice cream in there that he’s been eyeing for a while now, who cares if he can’t remember who’s it is, he hasn’t showered in two days and what _was_ the contents of doghae’s entire stash of fruit rollups is already littering his bedside table. he is beyond the point of no return.

he gives the marked up calendar on the wall a glance. “what the fuck are you doing here? it’s sunday.”

“i live here.” yunho unfolds himself from his upside down position on the couch and into a sitting position on the edge of its back. “besides, my father was driving me up the wall. did i tell you that he revamped his ‘taking over the family business’ speech? it’s the same.” his brow furrows as he gets a proper look at changmin. “what happened to you? your hair got so long so fast, _hey—_ ”

sliding across the floor in his socks, yunho stops changmin mid-scoop, “that is _my_ ice cream,” taking the spoon right out of his hand with an affronted look on his face. changmin wonders briefly if yunho wants to die.

yunho eats the scoop for himself, murmurs something around the spoon that sounds suspiciously like “ _always eating my shit_ ” and changmin has to conclude that he spent an excessive amount of time hiding away at heechul’s for most of his visit to gwangju.

after another scoop and pointedly ignoring changmin’s glare, yunho takes the tub of ice cream and puts the lid back on, reaching around changmin to stick it back in the freezer.

“you’re annoying, go back,” changmin huffs, crossing his arms, refusing to move out of yunho’s way.

“uh huh.” yunho gives changmin a lazy once over as he shuts the refrigerator door, brow raising playfully, “were you always this naked?”

changmin can feel his ears turn red as he suddenly remembers that he’s been living in nothing but underwear for a week, as he realizes just how in his space yunho is.

“i’ve been home alone for six days,” he grumbles, sliding towards the pantry in search of distance and something else to eat. “i didn’t think you’d be back until tuesday, so, thanks for the heads up.”

yunho scrunches his nose and finally tosses the spoon in the sink—changmin was just _waiting_ for him to forget, maybe his visit to gwangju wasn’t fruitless after all—before deciding that the kitchen table is the next best place to be upside down.

“six days? i guess that explains the smell.”

changmin locates a box of choco crackers and shakes the box in triumph before popping one into his mouth. “fuck you, jung.”

“fuck me? oh no, no—fuck _kyu._ ”

changmin tenses at the long running joke, and suddenly all he can think about is his missing poster and how he can’t get the smell of pine and fresh bread out of his sheets, he’s washed them three times, and why did he just up and leave like that? what did he make him keep the bracelet for? just to hurt him? dizziness clouds changmin’s mind and for what feels like the nth time he’s left reeling and reliving, an infinite loop of _what the fuck just happened_ —?

“—changmin?”

he must’ve really zoned out; yunho is up and leaning back into his space again, searching his features for some thing or another, concern pulling his mouth into a frown.

changmin remembers to breathe, forcing air from his nostrils.

“kyuhyun broke up with me last week.”

yunho blinks twice, eyes widening as he backs away, surprise and confusion evident. his brow furrows further. he looks so sorry, looks like he’s about to _say_ sorry, that changmin let’s out the rest in a rush of air and cracker crumbs.

“he took my signed x-japan poster and just _left._ ”

yunho ignores the crumbs.

it’s fascinating, how quickly yunho’s face abruptly clouds over into something sinister and protective, the same look that donghae had when he offered—

“you want me to break his legs?”

changmin snorts and shakes his hair out of his face. “must be a gwangju thing.”

“what is?” yunho’s brow goes back up, but his features are still entirely serious.

“donghae offered to do the exact same thing. you sound way more terrifying than he did, though.” changmin shakes his box of choco crackers and starts shuffling down the hall toward his room. “don’t tell donghae i said that.”

“uh huh, sure will. changmin?”

changmin looks over his shoulder. yunho is standing at the end of the hall, and even without his glasses at this distance changmin can see that yunho seems to be ready to fight under the upset concern that’s making him frown.

“what is it?”

“ _do you want me to break his legs_.”

changmin sighs, and from down the hall, yunho watches how his frame falls and how he carefully looks away.

“i’ll let you know.”

changmin closes the door behind him and makes a beeline for the cacoon of blankets taking over his bed, pausing only briefly to hit play on his stereo because what’s a good wallowing without one’s wallowing playlist?

he’s two songs in, scrolling through manhwa and trying his best not to open instagram, when yunho bursts into his room and turns his music off.

changmin sits up with a start, “—the fuck—” but he sees that yunho has changed into his red winter sweatpants and settles on stuffing a pillow into his face and groaning, “god, _noooooooo_.”

“yes.” yunho says, and changmin jumps when yunho grabs him by the arm. he’s pulled out of his caccoon and marched into the hallway.

“you’re going to shower,” yunho announces matter of factly, shoving changmin into the bathroom. “because you smell like sadness and ass. meet me in the kitchen when you’re done. okay? okay.”

changmin’s protests are cut off by the slamming of the bathroom door, futile as they were. everyone knows that those red winter sweat pants mean no buts.

_fuck it_ , changmin thinks, eyeing the clothes folded neatly by the sink and avoiding the mirror. if yunho’s wearing the sweatpants then there’s nothing he can do but what he’s told.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

he spends an hour showering, taking his time to really wash his hair because the halfassed rinse he gave it two days ago drained his red highlights and left him with that gross fruit punch look.

only after he’s dressed—yunho’s left him with a blue hoodie, an old gray t-shirt, and a pair of joggers that he’s been looking for ever since they disappeared out of his closet last semester—does he chance a look into the mirror. his hair is soft and has taken a nice auburn color, and he looks nothing more than a little tired.

he shudders at what he must’ve looked like before.

“thanks for giving my sweats back.” he gripes as he ambles into the kitchen. he raises a brow at what’s become of the dining table.

yunho makes a grand gesture over changmin, then the table. “nice, you don’t look a zombie anymore! amazing. i got chinese, italian, and mexican. in the two years that we’ve lived together i’ve never seen you that upset so i wasn’t sure which comfort food to go with.”

“when did you even have the time—?” changmin takes a seat and allows a small laugh. there’s beer, too. “thanks, hyung.”

he’s awarded one of yunho’s blinding ’i care about you’ smiles and a pair of chopsticks. changmin hasn’t had real food in over a week and he’s suddenly starving.

“take it easy, man.” yunho laughs at him behind a glass of amber beer. “it’s not going anywhere.”

changmin hides an _actual_ smile behind an enormous bite of carbonara. he’s not ready to admit it but yunho’s familiar kindness is already starting to make him feel a little less like an empty shell.

“so,” yunho’s watching him now, amusement clear on his face. “i noticed that you noticed my sweatpants.”

changmin rolls his eyes as swallows his bite. “shut _up_ , you’re the only one who cares about the fucking red sweatpants.”

“weird,” yunho says, making a face, giving changmin a pointed once over. “they seem to work.” he pauses for a second, suddenly so serious that changmin isn’t sure what to do with himself. “hey, changmin?”

changmin stops eating. “yeah, hyung?”

”are you okay?”

changmin tenses, hands jerking just enough to raise concern. he looks at yunho carefully, wondering how he should answer in order to seem as uncaring as possible, because he’s actually been _dying_ to talk about it.

yunho sips at his beer patiently but the moment lasts too long. “you don’t have to talk about it,” he says carefully, gentle even.

“i’m angry and miserable—“ changmin blurts. he immediately thinks _what the fuck,_ because that isn’t at all what he meant to say _,_ but yunho is really listening, and he realizes that, wow, he probably _needs_ this.

so he keeps talking.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

changmin closes his eyes, finally tired of watching the ceiling fan while he waits. he adjusts his sprawl over the couch, irritated concern scratching at him. he’s turned the tv on and off twice now, okay, there’s no fucking way mac and cheese takes this long.

he knows it’s his own fault, though. it’s been a week since yunho got back—since he spilled his guts—and he’s still sad and still lazy and definitely should not have let yunho talk him into _resting_ so much.

“it’s not perfect,” yunho finally calls from the kitchen. “but i’m sure you knew what you signed up for when you _let me cook_ instead of letting me order more takeout.”

“stop trying to spend money on me.” changmin gripes.

“why are you even home?” yunho asks around his fork, coming to kick changmin’s feet onto the floor. “it’s actually a little weird.”

changmin has to agree. it’s strange for him to have a free summer—his time was usually spent trekking around the city for the university’s photography club or teaching kids how to play guitar for extra cash.

“i took the summer off from the club this year, remember..?” changmin trails off, wanting to snark about not getting anything done in his current state anyway, _remembering,_ resisting the urge to dramatically press his face into his hands.

but yunho shakes his head _no_ , so changmin presses his palms into his eyes anyway.

“of course you don’t, you’re terrible with dates.” changmin grits his teeth, let’s out an angry sigh. “kyuhyun and i—we were supposed to go away next month. we cancelled _everything_. we saved up for the trip all last year because they were having a spring sale on tickets for students—“

yunho blinks at changmin’s sudden stop, sitting up straight when changmin takes his hands from his face.

“shit, _the tickets._ ”

“what about them?” yunho sets his bowl down.

changmin suddenly feels like an idiot. he groans, long and suffering, and slinks off of the couch to the floor in a frustrated heap. maybe if he just stays down there and does nothing everything will stop feeling so fucking out of control.

he fishes out his phone and whacks himself on the head with it a few times.

“right after kyuhyun left, donghae said that the bastard left them for me but i wasn’t fucking _thinking_ straight—fucking _bastard_ —i told him to throw the goddamned things in the trash.” yunho watches as changmin hits send on his text to donghae. “hopefully donghae didn’t listen to me.”

yunho allows a short laugh at that. “it’s gonna be a long wait.”

“fucks sake.” changmin puts his hands back. “do you think i’ll still be able to get the money back?”

“look,” yunho says, a finality in his voice that makes changmin actually look up. “i put on the sweatpants to help you stop being miserable, not to help you keep being miserable about what made you miserable in the first place.”

changmin makes an aborted sound in his throat, almost yells _fuck you,_ because he did not ask. instead he closes his eyes and remembers that it’s kyuhyun he wants to scream at; that yunho just wants to help.

he hopes yunho can’t see the rage that’s making his ears red, and he _really_ hopes doghae didn’t throw the tickets away.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

donghae didn’t throw away the tickets.

“changminnie, _no_ —“ yunho chokes when changmin drops to his knees at donghae’s feet, and he scrambles to pull him upright while donghae stands, frozen, with an overly disgruntled look on his face.

“absolutely unnecessary.” he says, handing the tickets over now that changmin is standing. “never do that again. we didn’t raise you to be this dramatic.”

changmin slants a sideways glance at donghae. “... anyway, thank you. i was really freaking out over this.”

donghae waves him off, “let me know about the leg breaking situation,” and disappears down the hall, the front door closing shortly behind him. changmin lets out a sigh of relief and ambles back over to the couch, letting himself fall backwards over it into a limp heap.

“ _ugh._ ”

“aren’t you glad that nobody ever listens to you?” yunho laughs at him, side stepping changmin’s halfassed attempt at a kick to his knee. “i told you he wouldn’t‘ve tossed them.”

changmin ignores yunho in favor of glaring at the tickets, the feeling of cold dread stirring in the pit of his gut because now there’s no avoiding it anymore.

now he has to talk to kyuhyun.

aside from the semi-obsessive checking of instagram, changmin hasn’t seen kyuhyun since the day he walked out. it’s the real reason why he hasn’t been to his usual club gig; kyuhyun is there, and no amount of offered photographer opportunities from the university could make him show up and deal with him.

changmin briefly closes his eyes against the sting of oncoming tears and takes a deep breath. to the side of him he can hear yunho stop mid sentence.

“you’re still talking?” he grumbles, almost wincing at how _exhausted_ he suddenly sounds.

“you weren’t listening?” yunho asks in mock offense. if he’s noticed the change in changmin’s demeanor, he doesn’t show it at all. “it’s the perfect plan.”

changmin’s eyebrow shoots to his hairline and yunho rolls his eyes at him. “look changminnie, if you just let me—“

“yunho-yah,” donghae looks like he ran back to the house. he’s clutching his phone tightly, a gleam in his eye. yunho sighs dramatically.

“what is it this time?”

donghae’s face splits into a grin as he holds up his phone. “ _hyukjae_ —“ is all he manages to say before yunho, in continued dramatic fashion, stands up and waves him off. “yeah, yeah, okay,” yunho sounds like he’s giving in to something—yunho never gives into anything—but changmin doesn’t care enough to stick around to hear what yunho’s giving in to.

he makes his escape to the front door, for once glad that yunho forced him to get dressed for the day. he doesn’t remember putting his shoes on, or locking the door behind him, just cool summer evening air filling his lungs.

he didn’t think it’d be his last moment of peace before the impending storm ahead.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~typos~

 

the house seems weirdly quieter without donghae popping in at weird hours—he took the weekend off to go to the beach with his boyfriend. changmin cracks a smile, remembering how incredibly gross they were being when they sent them off.

naturally, his smile wanes, because now he’s thinking about kyuhyun—about them, what he thought they were.

a familiar ache ebbs at his ribs. changmin almost wishes that yunho was still awake because at least then he wouldn’t be so tempted to _think_.

changmin sits on the edge of the bed, runs his fingers through his damp hair, and considers what yunho told him before he went to bed; that hyukjae may have let it slip that changmin’s photography club is going to be meeting at the bar donghae works at, and kyuhyun is going to be there.

yunho is filling in for donghae for the weekend, which of course means yunho is forcing changmin to come sit out his shifts. something about needing to _“get his sad ass out of the house_.”

changmin had panicked at the thought at first, of seeing kyuhyun, of _what the fuck would i even say_ —but yunho had startled him into silence _and_ compliance.

he’d never seen anyone look so vehement about protecting him. he’s sure his voice almost broke when he finally muttered his thanks with as much gratitude as he could muster. yunho has been far too good to him.

he hates to admit it, but yunho’s advice did turn out exactly what he needed. because of yunho’s relentless  _i care about you_ ways, changmin felt _okay_ for the first time in days, and it made him change his mind about how right yunho was. he was allowing himself to do a little too much wallowing and it was exhausting him. a steadily growing part of him has been tired of feeling fucking awful every day.

changmin tugs at his hair, the other part of him flickering with cold anxiety, _thinking_ about kyuhyun. about kyuhyun and his soft smile, and how much he _misses_ him.

changmin draws in a deep breath, thinking and thinking and thinking.

“fuck.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

changmin tugs at the lapels of his leather jacket, uncomfortable and disgruntled at being dressed in so many clothes. he glances down and feels his frown deepen. it’s been so long since he’s worn jeans.

“chin up, changminnie.” yunho calls from further behind the bar, rinsing another set of tumblers. he offers one of his mega-watt grins. “you look hot.”

changmin scoffs dramatically, letting his hair fall about his face so that he can hide the blush that’s definitely _not_ blooming across his face.

“i hate this plan.” he grumbles, sprawling his upper half over every inch of the bar he can reach. “i hate everything.”

“i know,” yunho finally sets his rag down and comes to pat changmin on the head before using the backsplash mirror to adjust his bowtie. “but _i_ look hot too, so at least there’s that.”

changmin scoffs again, sitting up so he can get a peek at yunho in the mirror. employee’s here are required to dress in all black and more on the formal side of things; yunho sporting a silky, fitted, paisley patterned button up and a pair of slacks that do _everything_ for his ass. he’s done his hair, too, the dark locks perfectly messy.

changmin thinks he makes for a rather striking figure, but naturally he’ll never tell.

yunho winks at him in the mirror, and changmin, mortified at being caught checking yunho out, really hopes that the floor opens up and swallows him whole.

“whiskey.” changmin demands, drumming his fingers pointedly on the bar’s woodtop.

yunho laughs quietly at him. “of course.”

they spend the better half of the next hour bickering, changmin nursing his whiskey and yunho occasionally darting off to charm another patron into leaving an absurd tip.

it’s just as yunho excuses himself to the kitchens—changmin promised maiming if he didn’t get a basket of free rice cakes for all of his troubles—that the door swings open to let in a blend of voices.

changmin recognizes all of them, but it’s kyuhyun’s laugh that drops icy dread and longing into his chest. changmin sucks in a sharp breath and clears his throat, turns on his barstool slowly and cautiously.

“kyuhyun.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are ❤️


	8. A/N (U CAN SKIP DIS)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hullo friends! 
> 
> hope all is well with you guys. yes, i have all intentions of finishing this story (and others!) as soon as i possibly can. i am here today to ask for patience and support! i was recently in two consecutive car accidents while in the middle of moving homes, and i feel as crazy as that sounds. hopefully i will get my life back into some semblance of order soon. 
> 
> in the meantime please enjoy this snippet from the real chapter eight!
> 
> stay safe.  
> 🖤 lliyk.

 

***

 

 

 

kyuhyun is watching him quietly, an aloofness set about his brow that changmin recognizes too well. it makes his chest burn with longing at first, but he bats it back with the knowledge that kyuhyun is about to _lie_ to him.

“don’t you dare.” changmin whispers hotly. he stares, wishing he was capable of looking anywhere else as tears start to prick the back of his eyes.

a sigh presses past kyuhyun’s lips. his eyes flicker off to the side, and changmin feels rage begin to claw up the back of his throat, disbelief coil around his ribcage. he fists his hands, shaking now. 

betrayal.

“don’t you _dare_.”

 

***

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

an uncomfortable frown filters across kyuhyun’s face as he stops dead, but changmin doesn’t let up on his stare, doesn’t even pause to acknowledge the sudden near-hush that falls over the photography club members. he’s not here for them, and it’s not like he has the mental energy to deal them in, anyway.

changmin watches dispassionately as, finally, someone familiar from the back of the group pushes kyuhyun forward with a pointed “you’d better deal with that.”

changmin offers the guy a distracted, stiff nod in return for the uneasy smile thrown his way, and lets his bar stool swing around.

“i want my poster back.” he rasps as kyuhyun slowly seats himself next to him. changmin tries not to flinch in annoyance at his voice’s disappearing act. with the way his heart is pounding he’s surprised it hasn’t abandoned his body, too. “you had no right to take it.”

“how are you,” kyuhyun asks slowly, eyes ahead.

”i’m sure you can come up with an educated guess.” changmin glares at kyuhyun in the bar’s backsplash, fingers tightening around his whiskey glass. he swallows the searing hot anger that’s starting to smother the hurt in his throat. “i want my poster back. why did you leave?”

the question feels ripped from him, leaves his throat itchy and raw, but he can see the minute surprise in kyuhyun’s face at his forwardness. of course, yunho had been right in telling him to “skip the pleasentires—it might hurt more.” his body already feels like it’s starting to tremble at the proximity, at the waft of comforting pine and fresh bread. a headache that has nothing to do with the whiskey is starting to make its way to the forefront.

“it felt like the best thing to do,” kyuhyun finally looks at him dead on. changmin wants to smash his face into the bartop. “i—“

“for  _who_?” he seethes, whispering hotly, trying his best not to fucking scream. “i came home and you were practically already out the door, and even then you barely spoke a full sentence. were you ever planning on talking to me about this?”

changmin catches a glint of glossy black locks coming in from further down the bar, and he doesn’t have to look up to know that yunho probably looks as murderous as he feels.

it’s comforting. changmin’s shoulders almost ease, and he discreetly tries to wave yunho into the direction he came from. as much as changmin wants his basket of rice cakes, he also, maybe, wants to keep kyuhyun intact enough to finish talking to him.

too late. kyuhyun audibly clicks his mouth shut, watches him quietly as an aloofness begins to set about his brow; a look that changmin recognizes too well.  _familiar_  makes his chest burn with longing again at first, but he bats it back with the knowledge that kyuhyun is about to  _lie_  to him.

“i loved you,” kyuhyun starts.

“don’t you dare.” changmin gasps. he stares, wishing he was capable of looking anywhere else as tears start to prick the back of his eyes.

a sigh presses past kyuhyun’s lips. his eyes flicker off to the side, and changmin feels rage begin to claw up the back of his spine, disbelief coiling around his rib cage. he fists his hands, shaking now.

betrayal.

“changmin, i—“

“don’t you  _dare_.”

“i left you the tickets. they’re not refundable so make sure you use them, okay?” kyuhyun murmurs as he makes to stand. he offers changmin one last, indescribable look as he makes for the bar doors, leaving his group—leaving  _him_ —behind.

changmin feels cold and stiff, as if somebody has dunked him into an unforgivably icy lake.

_what the fuck?_

 


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wiggles eyebrows*

 

changmin finally abandons the untouched basket of rice cakes that a server had come to leave him when yunho doesn’t make an appearance in the long, awkward moments after kyuhyun leaves.

on a hunch, he steps outside. the blast of cold autumn air brings him out of his hate and whiskey haze. easily, he finds yunho in the employee parking lot behind the bar. yunho is leaning almost dramatically against the brick and staring into traffic, smoking a cigarette, a tumbler of ice and something brown clutched between the fingertips of his other hand. he flinches in surprise when changmin snatches the cigarette from his mouth.

“jesus, min. scared me half to fucking death.”

“you’d definitely die sooner if it weren’t for me,” changmin grunts, pointedly flicking the offending cigarette away. “what are you doing out here? you’ll catch a cold.”

yunho looks at him, long and silent, before shifting his gaze back into traffic. the movement screams _agitated_ at changmin, but there’s a small smile dancing at the corner of yunho’s mouth that tells him that it’s not _him_  that yunho’s mad at.

“i’m off in an hour or so,” yunho says instead. he pauses to take a sip of his drink, glancing at changmin again. “i know you’re my ride but it’s okay if you want to go home.”

it’s changmin’s turn to look away into traffic, and he stuffs his hands into his pockets, mumbles. “it’s not that long, i can wait.”

changmin pauses, wanting to say _i don’t think i can be alone_ but finding the words stuck on the back of his tongue.

yunho must know— _of course he does_ , changmin thinks. he hasn’t left changmin to his own devices not once since he came home to changmin’s mess—as he offers only a nod of acceptance in return.

feeling dumb and exposed and unsure what to do with the silence or his hands, changmin intercepts yunho’s next sip for himself. the alcohol is acrid and dry, and changmin grimaces terribly before thrusting the offending drink back into yunho’s grasp. he fucking _hates_ hennessy.

yunho is laughing at him now, though. eyes crinkling adorably, thousand watt grin all warmth.

“ _hennessy_?” changmin hisses offendedly. “who raised you? you have to stop with the western stuff.”

“you have to stop stealing my food,” yunho chuckles at him, swirling his glass and taking a purposeful gulp.

strangely, that soft laugh makes changmin’s ears turn red. he frowns, and pretends it’s about the alcohol and not the inkling of a feeling starting a war in his chest.

“c’mon, let’s go inside,” yunho slides his hand casually up changmin’s back, leaving an unknown trail of sensation. ”you’ll catch a cold.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> typos??? probably

 

 _four lab classes and an elective._ changmin curses his enthusiastic freshman-self for insisting on a full schedule every semester. _what the hell was i thinking?_

“i was probably thinking that i wouldn’t get totally fucked by my own brain...” he mumbles to himself.

changmin tugs at his hair in order to resist letting out the woe-is-me groan sitting in the back of his throat, and continues his slow trek down the halls of the administration building. despite his attempts, he was unable to convince his advisor that a lighter load for the semester would _not_ impact his graduation date. changmin knows he is a great student and would never let himself fall behind, even in the face of depression!

still. it would be nice to have some fucking help and understanding.

 _hm_ , changmin thinks, finally arriving at the large glass entrance. _maybe i should have fought with that._

he makes his way down the steps, deciding that he will try again soon, contemplating the best campus route to one of the many different food carts that have started to pop up along the outer streets. if there’s anything changmin likes about the rapidly cooling weather, it’s all the hot street food.

changmin stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets—making a note to buy new gloves, cursing yunho for _no doubt_ stealing his current missing pair, wow his brain is on a _roll_ today—and decides to head way of the library, where he remembers a group of loud freshmen buying japchae.

his phone vibrates with a call as he hits the bottom of the stairs. speak of the devil.

“yeah, hyung?” changmin answers.

“stop.”

changmin’s brows furrow as keeps his stride. “eh?”

“stop! turn around.”

changmin pauses, and spins slowly on the heel of his boot. there, further down the _opposite_ direction of his japchae, he spots yunho ahead of a small, lingering crowd, waving a hand in a come hither gesture.

yunho has gloves on.

“ah, you’re on campus too?” changmin inquires flatly, backburning his desire for japchae, because it’s way too chilly to be outside without _his_ fucking gloves. he stays put, and waits for yunho to respond.

“yes? i am clearly waving at you, changminnie. why are you not coming towards me?”

“are those my gloves?” changmin asks slowly. there’s a small pause, then:

“...okay, maybe stay over there.”

yeah, he’s had it. the woe-is-me groan turns long suffering, and changmin shuts his eyes and lets it out as a new wave of frustration washes over him.

the tell-tale double beep of the call ending makes him look up. maybe he shouldn’t have complained; yunho is now marching quickly towards him with that _i care about you_ frown on his face, and it feels like the sweatpants situation all over again.

“what’s wrong?” yunho asks once he’s in range. he gives changmin a curious once over, as if checking him for injuries.

changmin rolls his eyes and shoves his hands back into his pockets with a huff. “you stole my gloves, for starters.”

yunho tsks. “changmin.”

“what?” changmin snaps flatly. “am i not allowed to be in a shit mood?”

yunho looks at him long. “it’s kind of my job to make sure you aren’t,” he said carefully, then cutting changmin off when he opens his mouth to retort, “and, no, you’re not my job, changmin. but you _are_ my friend.”

changmin clicks his mouth shut, and hopes for the nth time in the last several weeks that the ground opens up and swallows him whole. what is his fucking _problem_?

unbothered by the settling silence, yunho keeps his eyes on his hands, slowly starts to remove the stolen leather gloves. “we’re getting dinner later tonight,” he continues leisurely, nodding his head in the direction of the small group he’d wandered away from. “siwon is buying, so you should come.”

changmin accepts the change in conversation gratefully, and hopes yunho isn’t too annoyed with him. “siwon..?”

“yeah. my dad is his dad’s lawyer, and donghae knows him too, so we’re good friends—he’s new in the photography club. you haven’t met him?”

the short memory of a strangely familiar face flickers across his mind, but changmin isn’t sure so he says as much. yunho shrugs lightly in response, and hands changmin his gloves.

“just think about it, okay? you haven’t come out since i covered for donghae at the bar, and to be honest with you i’m a bit tired of taking all of my meals at home.”

something icy pours through changmin, and his eyes widen in mortification. has he really been so bad that even _the_ jung yunho, literal kindest person on campus, has become fed up with him?

“hyung, i—“

yunho cuts him off with a quick neck cutting motion, and starts to turn away.

“i’ll see you at home.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes another homin summer fic bc this is _exactly_ what i should be working on right now \o/
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